


Change of Pace

by twii2ted_8333335



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Biting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Shower Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford will gladly follow whichever way they go, wherever this escapade takes them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Pace

**Author's Note:**

> So admittedly, I wrote this for my brother in a spontaneous burst of "let's write sin" and he said to post it so boom  
> We got some short fiddauthor smuts

The first kiss is slow, asking permission almost, as if Ford would ever think of saying no. It's a slick glide as they press up against each other, two men trying to fit in one shower. It's an open, blank slate that can take them any direction, much like the hands settling onto Ford's hips. Ford will gladly follow whichever way they go, wherever this escapade takes them. 

The second kiss is rougher, open mouthed and making Ford weak in the knees from the amount of force in it. His hands find his roommate's hair, fingers gripping the wet strands tightly, eyes slipping shut. He groaned quietly as Fiddleford coaxed his tongue far enough out of his mouth to suck on. The hands on him bring him closer until they're flush against each other, chest to chest, hip to hip. 

When they part from their kiss, they're both breathing heavier, feeling even hotter in the already steaming shower. Their gazes connect briefly and Fiddleford smiles almost tenderly. He lifts a hand to brush a few stray hairs from Ford's eyes, letting his hand drift into the strands and gripping them. He tugs lightly, urging the other to tilt his head back, exposing the expense of his neck. 

Fiddleford presses featherlight kisses to the damp skin at first, feeling the pulse beneath his lips quicken the longer it goes on. Anticipation is making Ford antsy, knowing what's coming next but not know when it's coming. His fingers are flexing in Fiddleford's hair, and he's biting his lower lip to the point of pain. He doesn't want to say anything, doesn't want to risk having to wait even longer but he's getting impatient. His toes curl against the shower floor to keep from squirming.

"You're thinkin' too much," Ford hears murmured against his neck, bringing him out of his stupor. The older man pulls back, a lopsided smirk on his shiny lips that has Ford's heart leaping into his throat. "Just relax, Ford. Relax and feel." Suddenly those hands are moving him again, pressing him hard against the wall of the shower, just enough to surprise him. Before he can even register the change in position and pace, his head is being drawn back again and there's teeth digging into the sensitive spot under his jaw. His pleasured shout echoes back to him in the room as he scrambles for purchase, for something to ground him as Fiddleford sucks a dark mark into his skin. 

It's unrelenting after that. There's hardly a pause between the time Fiddleford deems one mark done and moves on to another area to create another one. Ford's hands finally find comfortable spots on the other's back and cling to it, nearly clawing at him. Fiddleford's hands don't stop either, running smoothly along his sides and down his thighs. His hips buck when his erection is suddenly enveloped by a warm, slick hand, then again when that hand starts pumping him. 

Fiddleford bites down on the junction where his neck and shoulder meets. His thumb rolls over the head of Ford's prick. Ford's fingernails are pressing tiny crescents into the other's back as he cries out, heat pooling into his stomach and toes curling again. He's so close he can almost taste it, can feel it right around the corner, he's not going to last — 

And then Fidds pulls away. 

Ford's left there panting and aching. He can feel his pulse in the rapidly darkening marks on his neck and the pounding between his legs. He can barely hear his breathing over the water, can barely hear his murmured questioning of his roommate's actions. He doesn't receive a response, not a verbal one. 

Instead he gets hands on the backs of his thighs, tugging up and he's scrambling to grab onto Fiddleford's shoulders as his feet leave the floor. His legs wrap around the other's waist, pressing them close together again. Ford makes a choked sound as he feels that hand wrap loosely around both of their lengths now, keeping them together as Fiddleford starts grinding up against him, right against the wall of their shower. Their lips connect again, swallowing each other's desperate pants and groans as they work back up to that toe curling pleasure.

When Ford starts trying to move with the other man, when he can feel himself getting close once more, Fiddleford dips his head and sucks on a mark from earlier, revitalizing the memory of the bite and sending new pulses of pleasure through it. Fiddleford's the first to go this time, his hips' movements stuttering as he reaches his peak, groaning against the other's skin. The sound reverberates in the bathroom. Ford finally comes with a similar echoing shout of his roommate's name, vision swimming slightly as his head tosses back and bumps against the wall. 

Slowly, they come down from their high and untangle from each other. Ford's legs feel a little like jelly but he can still stand, can still clean up the new mess they've made. 

Fiddleford waits until they're both clean again before pushing his fingers inti Ford's hair and pulling him into another kiss. Ford's almost glad the water starts turning cold then. 

It doesn't stop them from ravishing each other in their room but at least now Ford has a pillow under his head.


End file.
